A peek into my closet.

I won’t bore you with a picture of my actual closet, which is full of clothes I haven’t worn in months.  {Who goes from scrubs, aka professional pajamas, willingly back to “real” clothes?}  No, this one is more about the theoretical closet, where the skeletons hide.

One of the biggest worries I had about starting nursing school was whether or not I would find “my people” in the array of fellow nursing students.  I’m older than most traditional students and I don’t have time for drama or games {not to mention I have zero tolerance for excuses about why someone “forgot” to study}.  However, I have to say, I not only found my people, but they are amazing, supportive, hilarious, and most importantly, they like good food too.  {Our study groups are epically delicious.}

These people have done more than help me study, brought comedic relief, and encouraged me to keep pushing through.  These people have also become my sounding board for the shenanigans in my personal life.  My parents, who have been married for the better part of 45 years, are getting divorced.  If any of you readying this grab for your pearls, trust me when I say, this is a good thing.  {If you have had the unfortunate luck of being a child of a narcissist parent, you know.}  Needless to say, it has been an emotional roller-coaster, completely exhausting, and has resulted in me crying in class more times than I would like to admit.  {I would rather get a hundred dental cleanings than cry in front of people, and yet, here we are.}  Through it all, they have checked on me, bought me books to read {it’s the thought that counts}, and they have been equally, if not more invested in my mental wellbeing.  And that, is priceless.

I always balked at people who came out of nursing school with BFFs, but now I get it.  I don’t know if it is possible to get through this program without at least one other person in the program who becomes ‘your person’.  They can take notes when/if you are out, remind you of important dates, and most importantly, share snacks.  {Yes, my life mostly revolves around food.}

So if you are heading into the program, you need to find people.  Find your people.  Find them, and take care of them.  It goes both ways.

You get what you ask for.

You had better be careful what you ask for because you will get it.

I had quite the opportunity to not only use my clinical skills, but also use some serious critical thinking to identify a problem, and figure out what, as a student, I could do about it.  I’m so proud of myself and to be honest, it was just what I needed.  I have been second guessing myself this entire semester, constantly wondering if I lost ‘it’.  It’s hard to say what ‘it’ is.  The confidence that I can handle a situation; the ability to recall information in real-time with a real patient in front of you; the connection of symptoms and outcomes and what has to happen in between; the poker face that can look neutral to a patient but let other providers know that something just isn’t right.

I may sound arrogant, but I was one hell of an EMT.  I was good at what I did and I worked, trained, and studied hard to provide my patients with the best care I could possibly give.  Here we are, almost a decade later, and I had no idea if I still had ‘it’.  If ‘it’ was all still in there.  If the history of the last ten years had changed my perceptions and my ability to be that person again.  Not only did I get the opportunity to see that I do in fact still have ‘it’, I am realizing my perception of life and people is vastly different making the ‘it’ factor something different.  Something better.  After all, how could it not be after growing a human inside your body and then learning trusting the world around you because you can’t protect him 24/7?  {That doesn’t mean I won’t go full on momma bear if need be.  Because I will.}

I honestly feared that being a mom would affect my ability to care for patients.  I feared that in some way, my mental status {which is now quite stable thanks to modern medicine, self-care, and a really good support system} would hinder me in some capacity or another.  And you know what?  Both certainly have changed me, but only in the best ways possible.

I truly think that the more we live life, the more we can relate to those around us and it can boost our confidence in not only how we care for patients, but also why.  I don’t believe my insecurities will never really go away, and I’m sure {or at least hoping} that I’m not alone in this.  Admitting you are terrified, in the appropriate setting, can’t be all that bad.  I just wouldn’t go around telling patients you’ve only done a skill once… in lab.

What about you?  Do you have insecurities about patient care?  What are ways that you are working on overcoming that?  I would love to hear other ways fellow students (or you that have made it across the finish line) address and set aside those things that tells us we can’t.

A tiny light.

As my first semester nears the end, I swear I can see a tiny little light somewhere far off in the distance… Except when I check the plethora of pockets in my scrubs, I seem to be missing something very important, my motivation.  I am so looking forward to my nine glorious days off before the insanity begins again.  I’m still waiting on clarification on my schedule for the summer, which is endlessly frustrating, but at least I have a good idea of what my days will look like.

The silver lining of starting a new semester (that is sure to be a hot, crazy mess) is that I get a new clinical sight.  It isn’t that my clinical sight this semester was bad, but I haven’t had the opportunity to work on clinical skills.  I am not being critical, I have definitely honed my therapeutic communication skills, but as for hands-on, there hasn’t been much, if anything at all.  I did luck out in that my clinical instructor is amazing and has found other ways to challenge me and set me up for success in the next semester.

I’m not sure if this is a normal occurrence or if this is an outlier.  Has anyone else had experience similar to this?